Sorry for the long delay. I'm afraid I get kind of lazy on multi-parter fics. But there's only one more part after this, so I'll try not to be so slow about it.

Notes: Read these is you haven't seen or don't remember the episodes following Tomo's death. Xi-fang is the name of Subaru and Tokaki's adopted daughter. She's sent to hit on Tamahome, who tries to accept that he can't be with Miaka (yeah, it's another of THOSE things). Miaka catches them about to kiss, and runs off to the temple that she's been strictly warned against.

Matte=wait

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Mitsukake eased open the door to Tomo's room, a bowl of Xi-fang's soup in hand. Neither she nor Miaka were allowed anywhere near Tomo. Wounded or not, it was tempting fate to allow that. Tasuki and Tamahome had also been instructed to keep away, but for Tomo's sake rather than their own. Mitsukake didn't want the Seiryuu seishi's acid tongue antagonizing them and endangering his patient.

Said patient lay on his bed, staring into the distance. He obviously hadn't heard Mitsukake enter. He'd been crying again, the healer noted with a pang. Faint tear tracks stained the illusionist's face; his dark hair clung to his neck in moist strands.

Closing the door, Mitsukake said Tomo's name aloud. The younger man jerked to attention, surprise and fear spasming over his face. He had no skill with hiding his emotions, the Suzaku seishi had noticed, very little control over his face. The healer suspected it was related to the makeup he'd first seen Tomo wearing.

"I brought lunch," he said, kneeling down. Tomo glared at him for a moment, then looked away again.

"Starving yourself isn't going to help your situation," Mitsukake said in gentle remonstration. "If you hate our company so much, the quickest way to get out of it is to keep youself fed and rested."

Tomo's eyes narrowed, his lips curling in a silent snarl. Something flashed in his eyes, then, changing his expression. Longing. Utter, agonized longing, harsh and primal in his eyes. They closed for a moment, squeezing tightly shut, as his fists clenched, trembling. Finally, he opened his eyes again, turning back to Mitsukake stiffly.

"I'll feed myself," he whispered hoarsely, antipathy in his voice. The Suzaku seishi nodded silently, carefully extending one arm.

Tomo flinched away.

"You can't eat lying down," Mitsukake said wearily. "Either I help you sit up or I spoon feed you. Which would you prefer?"

After another long, venemous glare, Tomo reluctantly allowed Mitsukake to wrap an arm around his back and support him. With a hand that trembled slightly, the illusionist grasped the spoon and slowly took a sip of the meal. He was more hungry than he let on, obviously, because very soon he'd let his control slip enough to disregard his enemy's presence and just eat.

Which was exactly what Mitsukake wanted. Easing the Seiryuu seishi back down onto the bed, he silently pulled away the bandages over the wounds in Tomo's chest. The younger man stared stonily at the ceiling, his face marred by an occasional wince, his breath hitching once in an involuntary hiss of pain.

The double injuries still burned a harsh, angry red on Tomo's chest, but at least the things had finally begun to close. There would be scars, unless Mitsukake or Subaru healed them, which was, at the moment, quite out of the question. With gentle hands, the healer spread on a cool salve, a part of his mind noting Tomo's unexpected flinch when Mitsukake touched his bare
skin, the man's quicker breathing when he didn't pull instantly away.

Finally, he re-wrapped the wounds in fresh, clean strips of fabric, standing up. "Don't try anything," he said firmly as he turned, heading for the door. "And Tomo..."

The illusionist didn't turn around, but the older man knew he was listening. He didn't have much of a choice, after all.

"We don't want to fight you. We never wanted to fight you. Too many people have been hurt already in this war. We don't want any more suffering."

He left then, and didn't see as the tears began anew.

-

Suffering... What do they know about suffering? They've never suffered. Not like I've suffered. Seiryuu... How could you? How could you let that happen to me?

He felt his throat burning with unshed tears. His heart ached, crying out like a lost child.

I'm one of your chosen. Seiryuu shichiseishi! A child of the gods, all the legends say. What kind of father are you?! To let one of your children be hurt so. Damn you... Damn you!

The image of the golden statue of Seiryuu in the shrine in the Kutou palace danced before his eyes, mocking and cruel.

Damn you!

He wanted to cry out the words, shriek them to the uncaring heavens, but all that emerged was a broken whisper.

"Damn you..."

We don't want to fight you.

The words of the Suzaku seishi drifted into his mind, and he gave a choked, bitter laugh. Whether you wish to fight or not is meaningless. We fight. The shichiseishi of the god of war. We never had the choice. We've been fighting since we were born. Fighting for the right to live, climbing to the top over the bodies in our path. Damn all of you and your meaningless words of peace. They're all well and good for life in that pathetic country of Kounan--but in Kutou?

He laughed again, harsh, sardonic.

You wouldn't have lasted a day in Kutou. None of you. Weaklings. You and your god of love.

His thoughts broke off there. He shut his eyes as, again, Nakago's face appeared before him, haunting and cold.

Love. It's meaningless. And yet I want it more than anything. I'm a fool. Nakago... You never let anything get in your way. Espescially not something as pathetic and futile as love. You're strong--and I don't deserve you.

Don't deserve anyone.

He shook his head, but it didn't stop the stream of thoughts from attacking him yet again.

Captured by the enemy. Helpless. Nakago would likely kill me if I ever returned anyway. For failing him.

The scent of burned hair. The black sears over the lupine body. The consequences of failure, written in sable and ivory and deep, blood-red garnet in the snow.

But I'd go back to him anyway. Always. Fool that I am. I don't have a chance--never had a chance.

Don't have a choice. Never had a choice.

Damn it. Damn it all...

Sweat laughing ripping hurting tears blood begging screaming dying...

For once, he let the memories flood him with complete abandon, almost revelling in the old, familiar pain that washed over him in crashing waves of onyx and scarlet.

I survived that! his heart cried defiantly. I survived, and for what? To be laying here at my enemy's mercy, waiting on their whim? Deciding what to do with me? Hoping I'll turn on Nakago? Never! I will never betray him! By all the gods, I'd die first!

I'll get back to him again somehow. I'll fight for him once more, no matter what it takes! I swear it! Seiryuu, I swear it!

Lying under a foriegn roof, his mind clear and sharp, focused by bright pain and resolve, Ruo Chuin made his vow.

There will be no healing here, he thought with deadly calm. If fighting and destroying innocents is what it takes to be near him, then so be it. I'll take what they give me and use it against them, and I won't regret it. Even if I'm condemned for it--it doesn't matter. I'll willingly go to Hell.

I serve Nakago. Now, and forever.

-

Subaru and Mitsukake eased open the door to Tomo's room. The illusionist looked over at them, his golden eyes soft and sad.

Somewhat startled by the apparent change of additude, Mitsukake approached him, ready to change the bandages. As he knelt down, one of Tomo's hands moved, grabbing him weakly around the wrist.

"Matte," he whispered. "I--I've been thinking, while I'm laying here. I--I want the fighting to stop."

Shocked, Mitsukake stared at him. Only complete sincerity and an honest plea to be understood looked back. "When you go to retrieve the Shinzaho," Tomo continued, "Nakago will be after it as well. Please, let me go with you. He'll stop at nothing. Please, heal me. I can go to Yui, tell her the truth. I can stop this. Please."

Uncertain, Mitsukake looked back at Subaru. She watched Tomo with unveiled suspision. He looked at her, and winced at the expression in her eyes.

"Please," he begged. "I--My parents were killed in a war. I--I don't want anyone else to suffer that way. Please, let me stop this. Yui won't believe anyone else. Not even the Suzaku no miko."

"How can we be sure?" Mitsukake asked with utter seriousness. "We can't trust you."

Tomo shut his eyes, and the two watching were astonished to see a tear creeping down one cheek. "Nakago has been using all of us," he whispered. "She is my miko. I was born to protect her. Please, you must let me save her. You're my only hope."

Loyalty to one's miko. That, Mitsukake and Subaru understood. Carefully extending his hand, Mitsukake summoned forth his powers. Tomo smiled at them, his face warm and full of light, his eyes shining. "Thank you," he whispered breathlessly.

Swaying slightly, the healer leaned on the old woman's arm, letting her support him. Suddenly, running footsteps sounded in the hall.

"Mitsukake!" Tasuki shouted as he threw open the door, completely ignoring the Seiryuu seishi on the floor. "Miaka's gone! She ran off to that old tower! There're monsters up there; she could be in trouble!"

Shooting to his feet, Mitsukake followed the bandit out of the room, Subaru close behind them.

No one saw Tomo's smile twist as he slowly climbed to his feet. He ran a careful hand over his almost completely-healed body. His ki was still markedly diminished, and his knees were a bit weak, but he didn't need much strength to escape. "Fools," he murmured. You forgot I'm an actor. Master of illusions of every kind. You'll regret ever healing me."

He laughed softly, his eyes glittering harsh and metallic and cold.

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I swear I didn't mean for the story to take this turn. Tomo made me do it! *cries* You'll see more justification for this, however, in the notes at the end of the story.

Aeanagwen